


Taking Care

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Broken Bones, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel is a very bad patient.</p>
<p>married!Klaine futurefic, no spoilers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Care

**Author's Note:**

> Sinkwriter got me talking about how Kurt and Blaine would deal with having an injury like I have, and I wasn't going to write about it, damn it, but then I did. Written very fast, pretty much freewriting.

Kurt Hummel is a very bad patient.

It’s not that he doesn’t listen to the doctor; of course he does. He takes careful notes, reads all of the printouts the nurse gives him, and does plenty of research on his own. He makes a color-coded chart and sets alarms on his phone for when he should take his medicines and do his exercises, and he’s meticulous about stretching and flexing his body to keep his muscles limber and toned and his joints loose.

Still, he’s a very bad patient. He knows exactly what all of the allowable limits are and has no problem testing each and every one of them.

“Kurt!” Blaine cries when he stumbles out of bed and into the kitchen early one morning to find Kurt not slumped in a chair in his pajamas with an organic breakfast bar in his hand and his foot propped up on the opposite chair but fully dressed and standing at the counter making his coffee with his crutches leaning against the dishwasher, barely within reach.

“What?” Kurt asks over his shoulder, nonchalantly stirring the contents of his mug.

“Are you supposed to be doing that?” Blaine stops a few feet away from him, wary of the way Kurt’s normally sharp pre-coffee tongue has been honed by days of pain and frustration. He’s learned this week to bide his time and not to move in and take over, as much as he wants to.

“Please. I can handle a double shot. I need the caffeine this morning; I couldn’t get comfortable last night. I only took half a pill.” Kurt steps carefully sideways and deposits the spoon into the sink.

“You should’ve woken me; I would have gotten you more pillows,” Blaine says. “Or a pill. Why didn’t you take a whole pill?” Then shakes his head, because that’s not the point, and he knows Kurt doesn’t like the pain medicine because it makes him muzzy-headed and sluggish and wants to be off of it as quickly as possible. “And I meant should you be standing there making yourself coffee? Without your crutches. Because I’m pretty sure the doctor said you should stay off of your foot and be extra cautious about carrying hot or sharp things until it heals.”

Kurt turns on his heel - the heel of his unbroken foot, for which Blaine is actually _grateful_ \- and walks with slow steps to the kitchen table, his mug held securely in both hands. _Walks!_ “The doctor said I should use my own judgment about it,” he says. “I’m allowed to walk on my foot, and I only have to use the crutches as long as I feel like it.”

Keeping himself from leaping forward to help, Blaine watches Kurt grimace as he lowers himself into a chair. “And your foot being in pain doesn’t make you feel like using crutches?”

Kurt shrugs. “They’re annoying.” He stretches his legs out, one foot clad in a perfect black Louboutin oxford with silver studs at the toe and the other in a clunky cast boot, its dull grey plastic exterior covered in decoupaged Alexander McQueen skull prints.

“Kurt, using your judgment doesn’t mean you should push - “

“I’m not going to be held captive by my injury, Blaine,” Kurt tells him. “I don’t want to draw out the healing process any longer than I have to, but I have things to do. Things that require walking, standing, and carrying things.”

With a sigh, Blaine lowers himself into the other chair. He can’t take this personally. He knows he shouldn’t. This is just Kurt. This isn’t because he’s unhappy with _him_ , just like him not curling around Blaine at night has to do with the way the position puts pressure on his foot and not because he doesn’t want to be close. Blaine tries to remember that, even if he hates how it all makes him feel. It’s not about him. “I know,” he says as gently as he can, “but can’t you focus more on the things you have to do that require sitting, relaxing, and having your husband bring you coffee and kisses?”

“You’re _bringing_ me kisses?” Kurt asks, his eyes narrowing with amusement as he takes a sip of coffee. “Like in a gift basket?”

“Like a delivery boy,” Blaine explains. “You know, ‘Here’s your coffee, sir, and a little something to sweeten it up.’” He purses his lips in illustration.

Kurt’s eyebrows fly upwards, and his cheeks go a little pink. “This sounds like the beginning of one of those pornos you made me watch.”

“I didn’t _make_ you watch them,” Blaine says, squirming a touch in his chair, and, okay, maybe he’d kind of begged Kurt to watch them with him, but it’s not like Kurt hadn’t gotten into it, not when he was watching them in the circle of Blaine’s arms, Blaine’s hand drifting lower and lower over his stomach and down under his - “And, anyway, I would be offering more than just kisses if it were a porno.” He takes in the flush on Kurt’s cheeks and the way the cut of his vest makes his shoulders look so beautifully wide. He can’t help his smile going a little flirty. He’s only human. And Kurt’s been out of commission for nearly a week. “I still could offer more than kisses even though it isn’t one.”

“You’re really determined to keep me sitting down, aren’t you,” Kurt says with a laugh and a nibble on his lower lip that Blaine knows means Kurt’s interested.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing. And I’m a full-service husband,” Blaine says, rubbing his bare toes over Kurt’s un-booted ankle.

“Yes, you are,” Kurt says fondly. “And it’s no indication of your skill at taking care of me - in any way - that I’m doing things on my own.”

“But I like taking care of you. And you’re _hurt_.” Blaine’s smile fades, because it’s bad enough that Kurt’s hurt, it’s bad enough that one mis-step off a curb could land him in the emergency room for five hours and then in a cast boot for six weeks, but if he can’t help, if Kurt won’t let him, then he starts to feel weak and helpless, himself, because he couldn’t prevent the person he loves the most in the world from getting injured, and he can’t make it any better, and he can’t -

“Here.” Kurt offers Blaine his hand and gestures _up-up!_ with the other one until Blaine scrambles out of his chair and helps him to his feet. “Crutches?” He waits for Blaine to hand them to him. “I will let you carry my coffee into the living room, and I will let you carry my portfolio down for me when the car service comes in an hour, and I promise not to move off of the couch or put this foot on the floor between now and then. If I need anything I will snap my fingers and ask you for it.”

“Really?” Blaine asks, following behind Kurt, who somehow still looks graceful even as he hobbles into the other room on crutches.

“Really. I will consider you my personal servant.”

Blaine waits until Kurt has lowered himself onto the couch before he sets the coffee on the side table, bends down, and says in a low, flirty voice, “Here’s your coffee, sir.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt says, covering his mouth with one hand as he starts to laugh, but he doesn’t object as Blaine dips to his knees and runs his hands up Kurt’s legs. “Blaine, I have to go to _work_.”

“You don’t have to go to work,” Blaine says, looking up at him. “You broke your foot. Nobody would blame you. You could stay home all day.”

“ _Alone_ , because you _also_ have to go to work, and then when you get home you’ll find I’ve gone completely crazy, because there’s only so much daytime TV I can watch now that Oprah is off the air.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Blaine agrees, stroking up Kurt’s thighs. They’re so strong and warm beneath the tweedy fabric of his slacks. Blaine misses Kurt’s legs. He misses Kurt’s everything, really, even though Kurt’s right here, because the pain makes him more withdrawn than Blaine likes.

“And you know I’d just end up sitting here all day on my laptop working, anyway, so I might as well be there and actually get things done - Wait, weren’t you _kidding_?” Kurt gapes down at Blaine’s hands resting at his hips, his thumbs rubbing along the groove of his thighs.

Blaine’s pulse picks up a bit faster, because that’s not a no. “You’ve been too sleepy at night with the pain meds,” he says. “I miss you. And I just want to make sure you stay sitting for a little while.”

Kurt laughs again and does nothing to push Blaine’s hands away. “Well, there would be worse ways...” He shakes his head. “No, I’m already dressed, which is its own sort of torture session these days. This injury is robbing me of every pleasure,” he says with a sigh. “I love you, but I don’t want to go through dressing again.”

Leaning in to press a kiss to the inside of Kurt’s knee and then leaning his cheek there, Blaine says, “Not _every_ pleasure. And I’ll help you. I don’t mind.”

“You have been helping me,” Kurt says to Blaine, gently threading his fingers through his hair. “And thank you. You’ve been wonderful.”

The warmth of Kurt’s touch and praises rushes through Blaine like a flame, and it only makes him want more. He wants Kurt to be okay. He wants Kurt to feel _good_. He really, really wants to help with that. “We have an hour before the car comes, Kurt,” he murmurs. “Let me help you a little more.”

Kurt glances over toward the clock, his fingers tightening in Blaine’s hair.

Blaine raises his eyebrows, knowing he’s _this_ close to winning. “I hear endorphins are really good for pain,” he offers with a hopeful grin, dropping his eyes for a flirtatious second to the growing bulge in Kurt’s pants.

Kurt shakes his head, but he relaxes back against the couch cushions and strokes down Blaine’s cheek before letting his hand drop out of the way to Blaine’s shoulder. He smiles, amused and increasingly eager. “Well, then, if you’re so determined... Let’s find out.”

Blaine smiles to himself as he unthreads Kurt’s belt from its buckle. Kurt might be a bad patient, but Blaine knows very well just what kinds of encouragement he needs to follow his doctor’s orders.

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> I am unspoiled about season five of Glee. Please do not spoil me!!!


End file.
